


Intruders and the Maiden

by snasational



Series: Death and the Maiden [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Bad Sanses | Nightmare's Gang (Undertale), Blood and Injury, Canon Toriel meets the Bad Sanses basically, Gen, Mentioned Sans/Toriel, Toriel Centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:34:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29719347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snasational/pseuds/snasational
Summary: At the sight of her, they all went just as still as Toriel, except for the hurt one, who was swaying on his feet.“Are you Toriel?”
Series: Death and the Maiden [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2184132
Comments: 12
Kudos: 73





	Intruders and the Maiden

**Author's Note:**

> Whoo it’s been a minute since I made the thread that inspired this. But anywho, this is going to be a oneshot series!
> 
> By the by, my Horror is selectively mute. It’s why you don’t see him talk in this one

“I am so sorry for your loss.”

Toriel didn’t want to hear that. She didn’t want their pity, or their sympathetic words. How would they know what it’s like, to lose two children in a day? Their apologies meant nothing to her. She wished they would stop talking. It choked her, the words they spewed. Sorry, sorry, sorry. 

Sorry doesn’t bring her children back.

“I’m sorry your majesty, my condolences.”

Stop talking.

“Dearest Toriel, I am sorry to hear about-”

Be quiet.

“Tori...I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Shut up. Shut up! They weren’t  _ sorry _ . If they were then they would never have allowed Asgore to wish death upon more children. If they were sorry, they would’ve offered mercy and companionship instead of violence and suffering. Humans are not inherently evil, just as monsters are not inherently good. 

How could Asgore look at beings so small and so helpless, and not be reminded of their babies? How could he ever look at a human child and wish for their death? He is cruel. He is not the loving husband and caring father she married. 

She hates him. 

And she hates herself for not being able to save the two who meant the most to her. Only eight years old, the both of them. Asriel liked dancing and drawing and coloring. He still had his baby teeth. He didn’t even know how to use magic yet. Chara liked reading and writing and learning, they had such an eagerness to expand their knowledge. Like a little sponge. So bright and kind and wonderful. 

She loved them so much. Her babies, her children, her world. One, a pile of dust. The other, a skeleton in the ground; beneath those buttercups that they had so adored. Toriel never thought she would outlive the ones she swore to protect. And she never thought that her beloved husband would be the cause of further grief. 

She begged him to change his stance. But he was blinded by his sorrow and rage, and so she took the body of their second child and ran. Through the core, into the caves of Waterful, and across the thick snow that covered Snowdin. She ran, and she ran, and she didn’t stop until the door to her new life was in front of her. 

Her existence there was lonely. The other monsters feared her, because when she came crashing through the ruins she was a ball of grief and fury. Flames licked at the air as she walked, creating a fiery trial behind her. And her wails echoes across the walls, deafening the inhabitants of the ruins. In her arms was a dead child, limp and grey and smelling of decay.

It must've made quite the sight. The monsters still whisper about how she dug a grave for Chara with her paws, mindlessly digging like she was possessed. And when she wandered back into the abandoned home that sat at the foot of the ruins, looking blank and lost, they stayed away. Nobody wanted to be her next victim, another pile of dust to bury beneath the light of the surface. 

She didn’t come out of that abandoned house for a long while. And when she did, it was to visit the grave site of the fallen child. Oftentimes, she spoke to that grave. Her child never liked the silence, after all. They always needed something to fill it. And Toriel figured Chara might get lonely in the ground without their mama to keep them company. So she continued to sit next to their grave, even long after buttercups began to blossom. 

Soon children fall. But they never stayed for long. Some of them wouldn’t even allow her to make them dinner before they were off to get slaughtered by Asgore. After each child walked through the doors of death, she would tell Chara about them. Chara was always a good judge of character, even if they were bad at making friends. And even though Chara never responded to her, for the dead cannot speak, Toriel left feeling a bit more enlightened. These children had their reasonings for leaving her care. To hold grudges against them for it would be unfair. 

She was prepared to live this cycle forever. Scout the ruins, recalibrate puzzles, speak with Chara, sleep, rinse and repeat. It was miserable and lonely but she was prepared for it. It’s what she signed up for when she left New Home. Fixing up her old house became the one thing that allowed her to take her mind off of things. Perhaps if her home was more welcoming, the children would have been more inclined to stay.

One day, whilst cleaning near her staircase, she hears a knock upon the ruin’s exit. It was followed by another one, and then another. Overwhelmed with curiosity, Toriel made her way down the stairs and into the long, twisting hallway that led to the door. There, the deep voice of a man greeted her. 

Much to her surprise, the man was telling knock knock jokes! She was so delighted by this that she just  _ had  _ to play along with him. And thus started the friendship with the man behind the door, who had the most attractive voice she’d ever heard. Rich and smooth, a quality she always loved about Asgore. 

He brought her so much joy in life. She could only have hoped she did the same for him, because he seemed just about as lonely as her. They didn’t even know each other’s names, and yet she felt deeply connected to this soul. 

She thinks that Chara would’ve liked him. They had the same sense of humor and a similar way of speaking. Asriel certainly would’ve adored him, for he loved anything and everything that his mama liked. It was a trait that flattered her and made her proud to be his mother. 

It’s a few months after she met the man behind the door when the oddest thing happens. Toriel wakes up and gets ready for the day before heading into the kitchen to make breakfast. Nothing is out of the ordinary until she actually gets into the kitchen, where she was greeted by the sight of  _ five  _ skeletons. 

This in itself was a surprise. Skeletons were a rarity even before the war, and to see so many in one place after centuries was...off putting, to say the least. Especially considering the state they were in when Toriel first laid her eyes on them. 

One covered in black liquid was whispering harshly to one that had substance leaking from his sockets. Near Toriel’s sink, one with a scar on his face was frantically gathering as many paper towels as he could while an injured one was propped up against her counter. The injured one looked tattered beyond belief; his skull bashed open and red marrow seeping through a gash on his ribcage. The last skeleton, who wore a scarlet scarf, helped support the heavily wounded skeleton. 

At the sight of her, they all went just as still as Toriel, except for the hurt one, who was swaying on his feet. Their expressions went through many different changes; far too many for Toriel to possibly comprehend. It’s the black one that takes command, turning to her with a determined face. She noted that the liquid covered one socket entirely, making it seem like he was completely made of the stuff. 

“Are you Toriel?” 

She recognized that voice immediately. Undoubtedly it was the same as her friend’s, the only difference being the heavy tone in which the skeleton spoke. 

“Yeah boss, that’s her.” The one with leaking eyes answered for her. He shared the same voice as well, only his was much more closer in cadence. There was an edge to it that made Toriel uncomfortable, though. Like he was a predator and she was the prey. 

Toriel frowned, deeply unamused by what was happening. Magic pulsed at the tip of her fingers, ready to inflict damage if needed. She’s never had to hurt another monster before, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t willing. 

“Who are you people and how did you get into my house?” The ruins were sealed, nobody could get in. Or so Toriel had thought. Perhaps her sealing magic wasn’t as strong as it used to be. 

“There’s no time for explanations. I’m told you’re an excellent healer?” 

During the war, Toriel was one of the very best healers to walk the earth. When they were all banished to the underground there was no longer a need for the practice. Monsters could not get illness and violence amongst each other was unheard of. Falling down was an injury of the soul, not the body, so no amount of healing could prevent this. It must have been a century since the last time she healed a monster. 

But when she looked at the injured skeleton, she knew she had to do  _ something.  _

“Yes, you were told correctly.” Toriel finally responded after a moment of hesitation. “Come. The kitchen is hardly a suitable place for healing.” 

Marrow was already smeared onto her cabinets. A rough healing session can be very messy, too. Magic expelling physically in bursts of liquid, dust forming on body parts and blowing everywhere, violent pulses of energy knocking everything down, and many more potential messes that she had no desire to see blemishing her kitchen. 

They followed her out into her spare bedroom, the one that’s been under renovation since the first time she lived there. In truth, there was nothing wrong with the room. In that room was a plain twin sized bed with dull, gray sheets situated against the wall. A mahogany dresser was on the opposite side of it, and next to that dresser was a work desk. 

The real strange thing about the room was the posters hanging on the walls. They were full of words written in a language she couldn’t understand, and beside some of those words were complex looking graphs and sketches of what appeared to be an animal’s skull. 

The entire room had always alarmed her. And the strange thing about it is that there was another room almost exactly like it back in New Home. Neither her nor Asgore were willing to mess with it, because both monsters could sense the negative energy that seeped into every inch of that space. So they kept it “under renovations’ and tried their hardest to forget of its existence. 

The skeletons don’t need to be further guided. The one with the scarf and the one with the scar immediately help their friend onto the bed, caring not for the sheets they inevitably stained. 

“Cross.” Scarf snapped. “Be more gentle!” 

Scar, who was apparently named Cross, scowled. “I’m trying to be, Dust! But the dude is like a lump of fucking metal.” 

“Just don’t hurt him any more than necessary.” ‘Boss’ called from the doorway. He turned to the leaky one and gestured towards Toriel. “Killer, make sure to grab anything Miss Toriel needs.” 

“Killer?” She parroted out loud with a grimace. The skeleton in question gave her a sharp smile, but over all he looked...uncomfortable? Like he’d rather be anywhere else but there; Toriel tried not to take offense to it. Was her home truly unwelcoming to an extent where not even intruders wanted to be there? It was a disheartening idea, to say the very least.

“Yup. Don’t like my name, old lady?”

Old lady. That time, the words were said in the same way her friend would say it. Soft and casual, a tone that filled her stomach with butterflies whenever she heard it. 

“I have a name, and it is Toriel. I have not a single problem with yours, Killer. It is just unorthodox.” She told him. “Now, if you would, please grab me a bin of water and some rags, They’re all underneath the kitchen sink.” 

He offered no further quips and nodded before leaving the room. With that out of the way, Toriel moved to stand at the injured one’s bedside. Cross and Dust stepped out of her way, watching with distrustful eyelights as she examined the person before her. For people who broke into her home and practically forced her to help them, they’re awfully suspicious. It is her who should’ve been questioning  _ their _ intentions, not the other way around. 

The monster kneeled down. Despite the angle, she still towered over the much smaller skeleton. It was a perk that came with being one of the largest species; although her kind will die out when she and Asgore pass on. The inevitability of it made her feel hopeless at times, but it is just the cycle of life. For every species that dies, a new one will come to life. 

“The head injury isn’t new, is it?” She asked. 

Boss, who was leaning up against the wall opposite to the bed, answered her. “No. That injury can never be healed.” 

Toriel can’t help but pity this poor monster. Without any further preamble, she started to use her claws to tear away at the ruined shirt. Gray, unhealthy looking bone greets her. Toriel is no skeleton expert, but compared to the healthy shine of the rest she could only assume this meant something was amiss. Thankfully, no dust was collected on his body yet. 

The gash itself ran deep across his sternum and reached a few of his ribs. It was a jagged line, one that meant a gruesome fight was involved with its creation. Who on earth would fight so viciously? She had only ever seen humans attack and deal this kind of damage. By then, the skeleton had lost consciousness. Good, it would make the healing session easier on him. 

Killer came back a few moments after she disposed of the ruined shirt. Once she took the items from his hands he sauntered over to Boss’ side, where he too watched her carefully. Honestly, did they think she was some sort of cruel healer? Toriel would never intentionally hurt a single soul unless she needed to defend herself. This was true even in her war days. Mercy is essential. 

“How did this happen?”

“None of your concern.” Dust hissed at her. She blinked, taken aback.

“You will not speak to me like that.” She leveled him with a glare. “This is my home and I am helping you out of the kindness of my soul. So while you are here, I will be given proper respect. I care not for frivolous threats, so don’t think you can scare me into submitting to your rudeness.” 

After a brief pause where Dust did nothing but stare at her, Cross snorted. “Hah. Told your ass off, didn’t she?”

“Do not rub it in his face, that is also very rude.” She wrung her rag out and began to clean at the marrow coating the skeleton’s bones. “You do not kick an enemy while they’re down, and you especially don’t laugh at the misfortune of others.” 

Cross flinched at the reprimand. Much to the surprise of Toriel, he bowed his head in a manner that reeked of Royal Guard. The true Royal Guard, the one she helped train before Asgore overtook it and turned her kind guardsmen into soldiers hellbent on killing children. Politeness was something she drilled into their heads, and when they wanted to apologize they were to bow respectfully. 

She found herself yearning for those long days spent in the courtyards training younglings who wish to serve the kingdom. This skeleton reminded her of them, albeit he had a much sadder aura than any of the kids she taught. 

“I am very sorry to have offended you.” He tells her in a firm and sincere voice. “From now on I will learn from your words and never repeat my mistake, my q-  _ Toriel _ .” 

“I...It is fine.” Toriel waved him off, eager to do away with the strange mood that was set. “I’m just old school, I supposed. I value respect and manners. Do not be upset by my scoldings, it’s the mother in me.” 

“I told you.” Killer said to Boss in a whisper low enough for just him to hear. “She’s a real spitfire. Before...well, you know, I almost married her.” 

Boss tilted his head, analyzing Toriel with a contemplative expression. He watched her speak with Dust and Cross as she cleaned Horror’s wounds. “She will be useful. Those idiots are fighting a lot harder than normal, even the blue one. I never thought he would hit at Horror that hard.” 

“Blue? That fucker packs a mean punch.” Killer snickered. “Tori will fix Horror up, don’t worry. She ain’t ever failed me before.” 

“You are very fond of her.” He pointed out. “As is Dust and Cross. Ironic, considering the fact that you all killed her in your timelines.” 

Killer didn’t react to the blow. It was far from the first time Boss has made such a comment, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last time he did so either. “Shit happens. Doesn’t mean we hate her. Tori is hard to dislike, even in Underfell. I actually think Cross has some sort of weird mommy fetish going on, he turns into a little bitch whenever he’s around a Toriel.” 

“All Royal Guards are like that.” If Boss were to be honest, he could see the appeal in Toriel. But he’d never admit that out loud. “We need to get her to trust us. With her on our side, my brother and his embicles wouldn’t dare lay a finger on us.”

“Not with her watching, at least.”

Toriel started the healing process. Her paws were lit with a soft green magic; it filled everyone in the room up with warmth, even Boss. She ran it over Horror’s ribcage slowly, healing bit by bit. Healing magic is strenuous work and requires a good soul to properly do it, one without LV tainting it. It’s why none of them were able to heal Horror.

“And we could certainly use a healer.” Boss mused. “We’ll have to ease her into it. She’s got a lot to lose here, and messing with the prototype timeline is always tricky.”

“You can do it, Boss. You managed to convince holier than thou Cross, I’m positive you can convince someone like Toriel. I almost wifed her up for a reason, you know.”

“Yes, well.” A dark grin settled on Boss’ face, darkening his features. “Even if she didn’t want to help us, I’m sure she could be talked into it.

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter is @ snasational


End file.
